


Grow till tall

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did you have a growth spurt while I was away?" Herc asked suddenly.</p><p>Chuck frowned but didn't reply. Now that he was talking about it... The top of his head had just gotten past Herc's shoulder. His expression smoothed down, and he resisted the urge to smirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_2018_

There was a large poster of Lucky Seven, carefully stuck on the wall across the bed on which he was sitting cross-legged. The Jaeger seemed to look right back at him, as though his father were judging him inside the huge machine, displeased and unforgiving. Chuck raised his chin and stared at it, an arrogant and satisfied smile playing on his lips. What better motivation could he have found, other than the very Jaeger he would pilot with his dad? Next year, he had promised himself, next year he'd be inside Lucky Seven Conn-pod and fight the Kaijus alongside his dad.

He had officially entered the Jaeger Program four days ago, but was already familiar with all the courses and training he would have to go through in order to become a pilot. Herc had been involved with anti-Kaiju defence for three years, enlisting in the Jaeger Academy first then getting deployed in various areas as Shatterdomes were built along. Chuck had never left his side since then.

Now he was all on his own, feeling both exhilarated and determined. Nothing would shatter his will, especially not the wary looks teachers and trainees were giving him, his reputation already tainted by Herc's incredible skills and unrivalled courage. Nothing to get worried about, anyway. Soon, he'd show them that he was better than his old man.

Chuck Hansen was fifteen years old and convinced he could move mountains with his self-confidence alone.

¤¤¤

Two months later, several fights had occured, countless lectures and five warnings had been given, and his dad had received two calls from Mr Pentecost. The only reason he had yet to get expelled from the Program was the desperate lack of candidates skilled enough to be up to the impossible task. It wasn't his fault, though. People never knew when to shut up.

Herc hadn't been very happy to hear news of his son in such a way.

Well, Chuck wasn't happy either. He was currently laid out on his back on the Kwoon mat, and so far all his attempts to dislodge Mori's body from his weren't succeeding at all. He considered biting her forearm before deciding to hit her with his hanbō once again. Mori didn't move, kept on chocking him to death with her hanbō crushing his windpipe.

A frustrated, half-strangled growl escaped his mouth. Was Mori smirking...? Hell, she was. The situation was getting more and more absurd. Not because she was a girl, he didn't take that kind of thing into consideration, and guessed that Kaijus didn't care about them being boys or girls either, in the end they all would be cannon fodder if they weren't getting smarter, stronger, faster. No, she was shorter and lighter than he was, and it shouldn't have been a problem to get rid of her.

"Enough!"

The order ringed out, breaking the tension that was building up around the arena.

"No harmony at all," the teacher said while Mori was getting off him. "You're fighting against each other instead of fighting in unison," she added with a resigned shake of her head.

Chuck resisted the urge to roll his eyes in front of the old Chinese woman who taught them Kwoon Combat. He could have told her so without getting his ass whipped by Pentecost's adopted daughter, a public humiliation that was barely toned down by the fact that Mori had been defeating methodically all her opponents since the day of her arrival. At least, he had resisted longer than any of them.

He took a quick shower before heading off towards the cafeteria, scowling at anyone who dared come across his path. Only the freshmen lowered their eyes and hunched their shoulders; those who were familiar with Chuck's charming personality just ignored him. Chuck didn't care.

He had almost reached the gate of the relatively small refectory when he felt the skin on his nape prickle. 

"Why the hell are you following me?" he groaned after turning his head slightly backward.

Mako Mori pursed her lips in a sour, almost comical way.

"I am not following you," she replied evenly. "I'm hungry."

She didn't add "you dumbass" at the end of her statement, but Chuck heard it nonetheless. Punching her in the face was suddenly very tempting. Again.

He turned away abruptly and grabbed a tray, stacking up on it a plate of badly cooked pasta, two slices of ham, and a green apple that looked very forlorn in its basket. Mori was still on his tail.

"Can we trade?" she asked, then waved a little jar of yoghurt right under his nose.

"No."

He batted her hand away with an offended huff.

Patience had never been one of his stronger points since he was a child, so he put his tray on the table a little too loudly to pretend it was an accident.

"Are you going to eat at _my_ table?" he asked, disbelieving, when Mako sat across his own seat.

She didn't bother looking up and shrugged. Chuck stared at her furiously while she swallowed a big mouthful of insipid pasta.

Chuck didn't know how to deal with people. He'd never had many friends, back when he lived in Sydney, back when his mother was still alive and monsters were only shadows looming between pages of fairytale books. It wasn't even a problem now that he was an aspiring Jaeger pilot. He didn't need to get in synch with a stranger, didn't need to find a partner who'd be Drift compatible with him. He and Herc were already a pair, and the Jaeger Academy was barely a time delay before he went and kicked some Kaiju's butt.

There was no need to make any friend, especially not when they were annoying Japanese girls sporting a weird, unhealthy obsession for Jaeger tech (Chuck was obsessed with Jaegers as well, of course, but that didn't mean he'd spend hours studying and memorizing the use and place for each single screw.)

He put his fork down, took a deep breath to calm his nerves and spoke.

"Look. I don't understand why you think we should be friends, but..."

"Friends?"

Mori raised a delicate eyebrow. Punch. That. Infuriating. Face of hers.

Calm down.

"I don't want us to be friends," she said, looking amused. "I merely think you are worth my time and my conversation, Chuck Hansen."

"What..."

"You are worth the challenge, though," she added quietly.

Chuck pulled a face, still wondering whether he should feel insulted or not.

"Why?"

"You have the best velocity and reflexes when piloting. You make quick decisions, you trust your instinct. Teachers say I think too much and waste precious time."

"Are you insulting me?" he inquired cautiously.

"No. You have good instinct. Pilot instinct," she said, frowning slightly.

"Oh."

Mako Mori had just complimented him. What a weird girl.

¤¤¤

They were hardly friendly with each other, even though they got used to eating at the same table every day from then on. They didn't talk much, save for the occasional arguments and heated exchanges. Chuck had picked less fights, lately.

Sometimes, they mused over strategy and Drift process. Chuck felt oddly smug for taking Mori off-balance whenever he came up with brilliant and impossible battle plans.

"It might work", she'd whisper thoughtfully, "if you and your co-pilot were cats granted with nine lives."

"Shut up."

"Or Mario and Luigi, hunting the dreadful Bowser one level after another."

"Oh, you're so funny, Mori. I'm laughing so much I think I'm gonna puke."

"You're such a classy guy, Hansen."

Mako Mori was a quiet, polite girl, but her seemingly demure behaviour hid a sharp, witty mind that matched Chuck's sassy confidence.

She also was Stacker Pentecost's foster child. Their father-daughter relationship was nothing like Herc and Chuck's, and kept him wondering about his own almost non-existent family ties.

He hadn't seen his old man for three months when Herc was requested by Pentecost to give a lecture about his fighting experiences at the Jaeger Academy. Chuck wasn't particularly looking forward to listening to his dad rambling for hours on end, dwelling on his past missions and deployments with co-pilots who weren't... well, who weren't Chuck, still too young and inexperienced to be fitted for the task. Herc was one of the few Rangers who had managed to drift smoothly with more than one person after The Uncle Scott Incident (his dad had always refused to give him the slightest detail, so Chuck had made up all sorts of crazy theories about what had happened between the two men.) Scientists supposed his ability was the result of steely nerves and amazing self-control, always sparing his partners the flow of his most unwelcome memories and emotions.

They met in the evening at last, in the middle of the mess crowded with enthusiastic trainees and instructors. Chuck pulled a face when they passed each other. Herc was still standing in line while his son was already carrying his tray. Should he say something? "Hey, old man, how's it goin'?" or "Meat stew's so tasty tonight that even starving dogs wouldn't eat it", or even "Are you still waiting for me to catch up with you or have you already found your Drift mate but forgot to tell me?" The last one sounded so desperate that he was left tongue-tied.

"I want your apple," Mori's voice muttered above his shoulder.

He noticed rather proudly that he hadn't jumped out of his skin; maybe he was getting used to Mori's sneaky ninja-like way of suddenly materializing at his side.

"Go eat with your friend, kid," Herc said with a smirk.

"She's not my friend," he retorted half-heartedly.

"I'm not his friend," Mori nodded with an odd glint in her eyes.

They sat together and poked at the stew before trading their desserts. Out of the corner of his eye, Chuck watched his dad sitting down with Pentecost before the two men started conversing in companionable, hushed tones.

"They're friends," Mori noted casually, as though she were drawing a line between their dads and their own non-friendship.

"Good for them," he said while eating.

Meat stew was awful indeed. Silence stretched uncomfortably between them before she spoke again.

"I'm going to ask sensei to let us give a try in the simulator."

"What kinda try?"

"I'd like us to drift together."

"Uh."

Chuck considered his plate thoughtfully. He didn't know what kind of answer he was supposed to give.

"It's just a try," she said cautiously. "My training period is coming to an end next month. Then I'll be deployed and we'll never get another chance to know if..."

She made a brisk gesture with her hand, not bothering to elaborate her thoughts. Chuck glowered.

"I'll be drifting with my dad," he groaned, nose diving into his plate.

"I know," Mori said hastily. "That was for... scientific purpose only."

"Sure."

"I just wanted to know, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Mori."

"Why did I ever think it'd be a good idea..."

"You two lovebirds havin' another fight?"

Both teenagers jerked their heads back abruptly. The Chilean twins, Mila and Juan, were staring at them with an unmistakable amused expression on their similar faces. They were said to be nice and easy-going, but Chuck thought they were obnoxious and condescending, mainly because they were almost twenty-six and thus treated the younger ones like children.

The "lovebird" thing was just another joke at Chuck's expense, because there was no way he'd make time for dating or playing footsie with girls (or boys, and he thought that maybe he should have a talk with the old man, just to get things straight between them before they drift... okay, not _straight_ exactly.)

"What do you want?" he asked while Mori peeled her apple with meticulous care.

"Enjoy a delicious meal with fellow pilots," Juan replied with an easy smile. "Your dad is quite awesome, you know."

Goodness, that certainly was the _most pleasant_ way to start a conversation with Chuck Hansen. Tell him how great a fighter and a pilot his old man was, while he was champing at the bit, waiting for his stupid testing to come to an end.

"You know who else is awesome?" Mila said in a conspiratorial tone.

"God, not again!" Juan looked like he was very tempted to roll his eyes.

"The Becket brothers," she whispered delightfully. "They're very bold but very brave."

"You mean reckless."

"I mean they beat Yamarashi in Los Angeles with amazing speed and skill."

"Yeah right," Juan snorted. "I bet we'll be faster and stronger than they are when we'll get deployed."

Mila ignored him.

"Did you see the footage on TV news? Gipsy Danger is a real beauty."

Mori nodded her assent and Chuck grunted absently.

"Don't listen to her, both of you," Juan chimed in. "My foolish sister has the most embarrassing crush on one of the Beckets. I can't remember which one," he added mockingly.

"It's Yancy!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "The older one. He's the cutest, don't you think?"

She produced a crumpled picture from her jacket breastpocket, probably cut out of a magazine, and showed it to Mori. Chuck didn't mean to peer, but thought that the younger one, Raleigh, looked much cuter than his brother.

¤¤¤

People weren't supposed to wander in the hallways so late at night when there wasn't any full alert. However, sleep was evading Chuck. Laying on bed, restless and freezing, seemed more and more pointless and increased his frustration by the hour. He put on a sweater, parka and boots, carefully got out of his room and started walking aimlessly through dark, endless corridors.

Winter had crept along and covered Kodiak Island in a thick, white blanket of snow. Everything sounded muffled, voices, footsteps, even the usually loud, metallic clang of the old Jaeger prototypes that new recruits were using for their training. It was eerily depressing and bizarre, as though the world were silently waiting for its ending. A silent apocalypse, all the more terrifying that there seemed nothing was to be done in order to break the tension.

His skin itched. His mind was swirling with unproductive thoughts. The only sounds he could hear were his own, even breath and the light shuffle of his shoes.

A door slammed, somewhere ahead of him, making him stand still. His eyes squinted when he tried to see what was happening. His heart beat faster.

Mori's slender frame emerged from darkness. She stopped as soon as she raised her head and caught sight of him.

"You're not allowed to be here," she stated simply.

Her eyes sported a suspicious, wet gleam. Maybe it was just the dim light.

"Neither are you," he replied, lips pursed.

She didn't say anything and walked resolutely past him instead.

"Hey. Is... is everything alright?"

Her steps slowed down.

"No," she whispered.

They sat quietly in the deserted mess, sharing tasteless energetic bars they had stolen from the pantry. In a quiet, dispassionate voice, Mori told him about the nocturnal, private conversation she just had with her sensei. Stacker Pentecost had never intended to let her become a fully active pilot. She wasn't supposed to climb inside a Jaeger and fight Kaijus. Her training had been a cruel, meaningless waste of time. She'd be allowed to stay in the LOCCENT to assist the officers, maybe work on tech improvement if she displayed enough skills and knowledge - and Chuck knew she was at least as good and well-versed as their best tech experts.

But she would never step into a Conn-pod.

"What are you gonna do?" Chuck asked, feeling both awkward and sorry for her.

She had always been so fierce, so dedicated and single-minded that Pentecost's decision sounded unbearably unfair. His own dad was proud of him for striving to become a pilot, so why was the other man denying his daughter the right to defend Earth and humanity against monsters?

"I'll leave," she said without looking him in the eye. "There's no point in staying here any longer."

"Mori..."

"Don't say anything," she cut him off abruptly, fists clenching on her lap. "I don't need your pity."

"You wish! I'm not dumb enough to pity an idiot like you. Why don't you stand up to Pentecost? Tell him it's not his place to make decisions for yourself."

She turned her head towards him in a slow motion. Her eyes bored deep into his, dark and unreadable.

"I knew you wouldn't understand. But it's okay. I'm glad we talked before I left."

He made a face and shifted. The situation was getting more and more uncomfortable.

"When are you leaving?" he groaned.

"Tomorrow afternoon. My training period has ended, anyway."

"Oh... You do realize we never got to drift together, don't you?"

She closed her eyes, briefly, then got up.

"Take care, Chuck Hansen."


	2. Chapter 2

_2019_

Everything felt duller and lonelier after Mori's departure. He heard she had been sent to Vladivostok, the Russian Shatterdome defended by Cherno Alpha. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, for the Russian pilots, the Kaidonovskys, were some of the most impressive and efficient fighters in the whole world. If Mori was seeking some heavy action and adrenaline rush, that was certainly the best place to be.

Chuck wasn't left alone exactly. There were classes and training, of course, and sometimes Mila and Juan would gather at his table in the cafeteria and tease him endlessly about the pettiest things. They both claimed it was their duty to cheer him up since his cute friend had forsaken him. He tried to make them understand that Mori had never been his friend to begin with, then he just shut them out tiredly when he figured out that they would never leave him alone. Plus, he kind of missed Mori.

Mila was still very infatuated with the older Gipsy Danger pilot, much to his own brother's dismay.

As time went by and more Kaijus emerged from the Breach, Jaeger pilots had become quite the thing amongst the population and the media. Some of them were celebrities, to the extent that they were idolized by fans who wrote articles and dedicated websites to their heroes, spent countless hours gathering data and photos. A lot of that stuff was full of bullshit. Chuck recalled the time his old man had talked about it with other fellow pilots, making fun of the love confessions, nude pictures and even marriage proposals he received on a daily basis. He guessed Herc Hansen was sort of famous - and shook his head fiercely, refusing to dwell on the thought of people lusting after his dad, married women, disgusting old guys or frustrated teenagers dying to become Jaeger pilots...

Not when he was collecting pictures of Gipsy Danger and her pilots himself.

His little obsession started rather innocently. Mila had tons of magazines and photos stacked under her bunk, and she willingly gave him a bunch of them when he admitted grumpily his admiration for the American Jaeger. Anything remotely different than his twin brother's mocking remarks was such a welcome change for the older recruit that she put her heart into providing him first-rate material to fuel both his competitive spirit and his dreams.

It was both strange and refreshing not to be solely focused on Herc and Lucky Seven anymore. The Jaeger had sustained significant damage after his last mission and was currently stationed in Tokyo, waiting for the necessary repairs. Its poster was still on the wall across his bed, but he hadn't felt for a long time his dad's steely gaze following him whenever he passed.

Yancy and Raleigh Becket were young, brash, overconfident and cocky. Their fighting style was smooth and appealing, sometimes going for the flashy moves instead of finishing their opponents quickly and efficiently. The journalists loved them, because they had the looks, the attitude and bright innocence of real heroes. "Live fast, die young" sounded like their motto. Maybe Yancy Becket was more composed and serious; Chuck wouldn't know, for all his attention was focused on Raleigh everytime the siblings appeared on TV.

At first, his attraction was based on their similarities. He could relate on Raleigh's need to shine brighter than his brother, all twinkling blue eyes and playful smile, talking loud and bragging about their victories. Maybe he thought he had to prove himself in front of the cameras the same way Chuck needed to show Herc that he was worth becoming his co-pilot. And then there were times when Raleigh looked a little lost and upset, and would lean discreetly on Yancy's bigger frame, always after a battle rougher than the previous ones, and Chuck imagined that something had happened during the neural handshake. He wondered if it'd be the same for him and his old man... how they'd handle everything the Drift would show them, the bitter memories and the resentful feelings... how Chuck would lay bare and vulnerable in front of his father's eyes...

He thought about himself, and thought about Raleigh. He wanted to know him.

There was a special picture, carefully stashed away, that he didn't dare to stare at too often. It looked like a stolen photograph, taken right after a training fight on the Kwoon mat. Raleigh wasn't looking at the camera. His shoulders were slightly turned towards somebody out of shot - his brother, maybe. His body was glistening with sweat, his gaze a bit unfocused. One of his hands had curled around the hem of his tank top and he was wiping his face up with the damp fabric in a frozen motion, revealing the hard, sculpted planes of his stomach. Chuck would follow every curve, every patch of pale, smooth skin with wide, wondering eyes, unsure of his feelings but definitely aware of the unquenched lust that twisted his guts painfully.

The nights were long and cold, the dreams filled with sharp metallic edges, dark voices and tempting caresses.

¤¤¤

Everytime the alarm went off, when the Breach opened and let a Kaiju out anywhere on the Pacific rim, the residents of the Academy gathered at the mess and followed the operations on the official TV news. Stacker Pentecost was always present on such occasions.

When he saw him, Chuck forced himself not to think about Mori.

The monstrous beast had emerged in front of Taiwan coast, howling like the devil it was before heading towards the port city. The Air Force and Special Ops had been committed to battle and were currently trying to contain the Kaiju, preventing it from reaching the first buildings with desperate maneuvers. The city was waiting for Lucky Seven's arrival, the closest Jaeger to its area.

"I thought the repairs weren't done yet," Juan mused aloud.

"There were two choices," Pentecost said, eyes fixed on the plasma TV screen. "Either go with a damaged machine or sacrifice an entire island."

Chuck clenched his fists.

The battle was being filmed not very far from above, journalists probably being on board a chopper. The report wasn't showing anyone running on the streets. Only parts of the gigantic monster, blurry sequences of dark scales and blue, surreal light. Fighters and helicopters were flying around it in a tangled flurry, bombarding it relentlessly.

Several planes were already down when a helicopter exploded right in front of the camera, the flash of the deflagration blinding them momentarily. The journalist's voice was becoming more and more frantic. The flow of her stuttered commentary was suddenly interrupted by the loud growl of an imposing machinery.

Lucky Seven was there, at last. People around Chuck began to cheer.

Not a word escaped his lips, tightly sealed in a thin, almost invisible line. His eyes never left the massive frame of his dad's Jaeger, as he tried to make out and analyze each of his moves. Herc had been paired with a new co-pilot, whose name he couldn't recall right then. It was a man, he thought, some sort of captain... a temporary partnership anyway, Chuck didn't care. Soon the Hansens would be reunited for good and never separated again. They'd be the best unit the PPDC would ever bring together. Better than the Beckets.

Somebody gasped next to him when Lucky Seven took his first significant strike. The machine wavered dangerously close to the port, but didn't fall. He didn't waste time and used the momentum to launch another attack, colliding his metal fist into one side of the Kaiju's face. The blow seemed to ignit its rage. Everything went from bad to worse afterwards.

The ones who were supporting the Jaeger's battle with enthusiastic shouts calmed down almost immediately. The crowd quivered with tensed, anguished whispers before the silence settled in, full of desperation.

Nobody dared to look at Chuck. Not a single hand was laid on his shoulder in a semblance of comfort.

As soon as the report was over, Pentecost walked across to him.

"Come with me, Hansen."

For hours, Chuck sat in front of Pentecost's office, eyes staring absently at its closed door. Behind it, the man was making countless calls in an attempt to learn something, anything about Herc's state after the Jaeger was torn apart and destroyed. His hands started trembling, so he put them under his lap.

The door finally opened and the older Ranger ordered him to come in with a jerk of the head that reminded him stupidly of Mori. He grabbed the handset that Pentecost was handing him and put it against his ear.

He couldn't talk at first; his throat felt too dry, his breathing too constricted. His dad's voice sounded like some faint, distant echo on the phone.

"Hey, kid."

He forced a painful gulp down.

"Hey, old man."

Chuck didn't know what to say past the mutual greeting. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Pentecost's big frame slipping out of the room. Maybe the Ranger thought they needed some sort of privacy? The boy welcomed that strange thought with a dejected shrug of his shoulders. He really had no clue about the words he was expected to say to his dad.

At the far end of the world, Herc gave an awkward grunt.

"So... how're things out there?" he asked with a strained voice.

"Uh. Shouldn't I be the one to ask you that?"

He could almost picture his father's careful smile.

"Well, it certainly wasn't my best performance."

"You blew Lucky Seven up," Chuck blurted out before he could prevent himself.

"Technically, I didn't blow anything up. Fucking Kaiju did."

"Half his right flank exploded."

"Details..."

"It's beyond repair!" he snapped, getting more and more flustered. "How am I supposed to fight Kaijus without a Jaeger?"

"Sorry for saving a whole city," Herc says tiredly. "I'm fine, by the way."

Chuck let himself slide onto the floor, back against the wall.

"Of course you're fine," he muttered, ignoring his shaky breaths. "Kaijus wouldn't even begin to figure out how to kill an old man like you."

"Damn right, kid," the older Hansen agreed.

The silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Chuck wondered if every father-son conversation was this difficult to strike up.

"You know," Herc said in a vague attempt to humor the younger one, "by the time you're done with your training period, I bet the PPDC will have a brand new Jaeger ready for us."

"It won't be the same."

Chuck knew he was being stubborn, but Lucky Seven was still on the wall of his room, and he had memorized each single move, each single weapon...

"It'll be a fresh start, son."

When he came back to his room, Chuck removed the poster from the wall.

¤¤¤

At the end of July, Gipsy Danger was deployed in San Diego and confronted successfully a Kaiju that, much later, scientists would bless with the name of "Clawhook". The Beckets were currently interviewed by an enthusiastic journalist.

"Cocky brats," Herc muttered with a weird, affectionate tone.

Chuck ignored pointedly Raleigh Becket's sunny smile blooming on the huge plasma screen in the cafeteria.

The older Hansen had lied when pretending he was fine. The explosion of his Jaeger had caused him several burns, a broken ankle and one dislocated shoulder when he had tried to help his co-pilot disengage from the Conn-pod before they got smashed by the enraged Kaiju.

It was strange, a little embarrassing even, to have his old man staying at the Academy for the next couple of weeks, still recovering from his injuries. Stacker Pentecost kept nagging at him like an old wife, most likely eager to get rid of such an annoying convalescent - Herc had always been terrible when injured or sick, never listening to the doctors, refusing to take his pills, and making ridiculous lies up to get out of physical therapy. Chuck suspected Herc hadn't been sent to Kodiak Island thanks to his son's presence, but because Pentecost was the only human being the old man was willingly listening to... or maybe scared of. It wasn't going very well, though.

Fortunately, Chuck had almost gone through the whole training program, and expected to become an active pilot in a few weeks.

He stared at the green apple he had picked as dessert. At his right side, Herc was sipping the cup of coffee he wasn't allowed to drink.

Maybe it was a good time to have a talk with his dad, about the things that kept him awake sometimes at night, things about short blond hair, lean muscles and wonderful, promising smiles. He'd heard dreadful stories about the Drift process, a lot of them being most likely rumors. He also knew that he wasn't experienced enough to control his own thoughts and emotions. Herc had better be prepared for the full, technicolor stream of teenage angst and hormone-induced frustration Chuck had been building up for almost sixteen years. He definitely had made sure to steel himself when he'd have to face his father's memories of his mother.

He took a deep breath, then turned towards his father.

"Dad," he called in his most serious voice.

Herc forced his coffee down with a satisfied gulp, then hummed nonchalantly, eyes still fixed on the TV screen.

"Dad, there's something I think you ought to know..."

The older Hansen clapped his hands on his thighs, looking suspiciously cheerful. Chuck didn't like it when his dad looked cheerful.

"That reminds me, I also have something to tell you," he said, then tried to get up.

It was quite a painful process, since he refused to use his crutches, but he managed to stand up without his son's help.

"Something to give you, actually," he resumed while heading out of the cafeteria. "We really need to retrieve it from Stacker's office before it causes a ruckus."

"Does Mr Pentecost know you put a thing in his office?" Chuck asked, even though he already knew the answer.

His father now sported his trademark manic grin.

They walked side by side, in a pace slower than usual. Herc was limping heavily. He also was a proud man, and Chuck didn't even try to take him by the arm in order to help him relieve the pressure on his bad leg.

"Did you have a growth spurt while I was away?" Herc asked suddenly.

Chuck frowned but didn't reply. Now that he was talking about it... The top of his head had just gotten past Herc's shoulder. His expression smoothed down, and he resisted the urge to smirk.

Herc opened the door of Pentecost's office very carefully. More impatient than his father, Chuck ducked his head, slid under the old man's arm and entered the room. He was welcomed with a sight that looked nothing like the usually tidy, well-cleaned office. The chairs were knocked over, papers scattered everywhere, the little clock Pentecost was so fond of nowhere in sight.

The "thing" Herc had been bragging about was currently chewing on one desk-leg.

Chuck made a face.

"It's a dog," he said, disbelieving.

"It's a pup," Herc corrected merrily. "One of the workers found him half-starving outside. Said all the other ones were dead, but this little one survived. Tough one, just like us."

Chuck wasn't making any move, so his dad had to give him a little push.

"Why don't you go fetch him, kid?"

He crouched down in front of the little bulldog, then extended one hesitant hand. The pup looked at it with a suspicious gaze, before scurring along to the boy. He sniffed his fingers, his breath tickling them. At last, his tiny, rough tongue licked them. An unexpected laugh escaped Chuck's lips.

He never saw the smile on his father's face. And for a rare, precious moment, Chuck forgot everything about mighty Jaegers, dreadful Kaijus and dangerous smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the many mistakes, mispelling and general grammar abuse!


End file.
